Beloved
by Lavyrle Elizabeth
Summary: He came back at last after sixteen long years to marry his old flame. Mature Nyotalia!North Italy and Holy Roman Empire. OC! names Felicia and Charles.


**Beloved**

_Their love is the age of innocence._

**-1-**

Spring brought the primroses to bloom, the trees to bear fruit. The soft showers brought the ants to scamper underneath boughs and the stems of flora to be fleshy. The blessed Earth who have withstood the four seasons year after year is soft and warm, a joy for the farmers, a delight for green-thumbed ladies. A booted foot surveyed the great garden well-kept after all years that he was gone. Indeed, it was taken care with utmost perfection, making the man remember all the years he frolicked with his childhood friend on the good, green grass and ate the raw fruits they themselves handpicked from the trees, simply washed with the cool water from the stream nearby the tool shed of the aging house near the hill.

The sinewy man in his early thirties shaded his eyes from the eight o clock sun rising from its blanket of roughened mountains. He spotted a familiar figure from a distance and finally after a long battle of hesitation in his part, he casually strolled and went inside the ancient mansion's grounds. His graceful way of walking and aura of noble sophistication made the sixty year old gardener of the Edelstein household look up warily, as if expecting visitors from the aristocracy as pompous creatures of God's land.

"Excuse me," The gardener's stooped shoulders straightened as he heard the cool rich voice of the approaching man. He looked up, and had the opportunity to have his experienced steel-gray eyes clash with delphinium-blue ones. "I'm looking for Miss Felicia? She used to live here."

Both his hands dirty and the straw-brimmed hat askew, the old man brushed his hands first in his overalls and righted the hat on his head. With a surveying gaze, he eyed the younger man from head to foot: brushing the rakish thoughts aside from his mind and respecting the way the brawn shows even under the long-sleeved shirt and waistcoat. This is not the crumpets-and-tea type of gentleman, was a passing and concluding thought. "We don't know anyone with that name here."

The younger man prodded on. "Her last name's Vargas, Felicia Vargas?"

"Vargas…Felicia…oh!" The time-honoured man's tired eyes suddenly sparkled; a memory tinkered from his mind's eye. "Felicia Vargas, Mr. Roderich Edelstein's charge!"

The youthful young man spared a smile when the old man nailed the object of his query. "Yes. That Felicia."

"Enchanting girl is that one, somewhere in her late twenties now. She used to play in these gardens when she this small," The man in his story-telling stooped to demonstrate the space between the soil and his one good hip. "She's always getting into scrapes with her childhood friend. You can never heard complaints from her too when she works in the main house. Miss Elizaveta says she was a joy, Mr. Roderich says she was a beauty. Well, she is mighty pretty to look at too if my memory serves me right."

"I know."

"She moved with the Edelstein couple at the border of Garmisch-Partenkirchen, near the high mountain Zugspitze. She was reunited with her sister there." The gardener scratched his head trying to remember. "I think her name's Lumina, no Lucina. Was it Lavinia…"

"It's Lovina, sir."

"Yes, yes, Lovina! The tough lady has guts to marry a Spaniard. Why, how did you-" A suspicious chord was struck: How can this stranger know intimate knowledge such as the name of their Felicia's sister? The gardener sized him up again. Voice dripping with unrestrained curiosity, the gardener asked, "If it's alright with you fine sir, may I ask what it is you want from our young miss."

The younger man took off his hat and smiled at the old gardener. The sun's soothing rays clearly illuminated his familiar face. "How are you, Sir Milon?"

"_Mein Gott_, are my eyes playing tricks on me? I can't believe it." The old man touched the younger man's sleeve, feeling the warmth of life through his thin clothing. No, this was no illusion: Mr. Edelstein's heir is home at last.

"Why lad, we all thought you'll never come back! How many years was it? Ten? Thirteen?"

"It was sixteen years sir. Unloading the cargoes on various ports over the world was a tough job. There are usual delays, but then sailing has been my passion." He showed a pouch from under his reticule. With a smile of mischief the older man knew so well, the grown heir said, "But not anymore."

The gardener understood. "You mean, you will ask her…?"

"Indeed. It's good to be back."

**-2-**

The new Edelstein house is a beauty straight out from the fairy tale books. Made from cedar and furnished all throughout with mahogany furniture inside, the house easily emits a homely vibe from the outside. There are cats strolling with their agile and lithe bodies in and out the kitchen. There are potted sapphire-blue orchids well-tended. There are working gloves and an age-old pail with a broken handle. The very essence of the house is what make passersby spare it a second glance.

The inside of the house is as delightful as it is outside. The plaster have dried last week and the striped green-and-white walls are enchanting to the eye. There are pictures decorating the cabinets, ranging from crayon bunnies to light sketches to very detailed paintings with artists' signatures on the edges. Right now, an otherwordly beauty with burnished curls and chartreuse-hued eyes was sewing with utmost enthusiasm. Adjacent to her is her husband, who is uncharacteristically reading the newspaper with merry eyes and a trembling mouth. The mistress of the house was spying her spouse secretly from the corner of her eyelids as she expertly embroidered a handkerchief with two cornflower-knapweeds entwined in one stem.

"Roderich, I know you have something up your sleeves right now." Elizaveta Hedervary-Edelstein said as she noticed her husband's twinkling eyes and lopsided grin. She placed her embroidery neatly at a nearby table and quietly fetched her tea. She sipped daintily. "Out with it."

Roderich's eyes are sparkling when they met hers. She was taken aback at how much his simple gaze can affect her so deeply. They have been married for quite a long time and even though they're in a childless marriage, both parties are happy with each other. Her spouse's smile though is not directly for her benefit: its more like there is an underlying meaning behind it.

"He's back, my love."

Elizaveta's straightened her posture, anticipating his answer. "Who?"

Roderich looked at her eyes for many more seconds and grinned lovingly. Elizaveta knew right away that his next words would very much change her life in the next five minutes.

"Our child. "

Two words is all she need to have her body let out a tearful reaction. Her shoulders started shaking and her lips trembled along with it. "Our child…You don't possibly mean…Ch-Charles do you?"

Roderich cradled her head tenderly and with his head bowed, Elizaveta realized belatedly that he was crying, not until she felt two warm drops near the bodice of her dress.

"Our child. He's back."

For the first time in their lives, they kissed with their eyes dripping, their cheeks tear-stained, their shoulders brushing each other and their lips quivering with joyous laughter.

**-3-**

The smells of the kitchen are appetizing enough to entice every passerby: for who wouldn't fall for the sweet, sweet sauce of pasta with extra meatballs? The sauerbraten with fresh venison beef she bargained from the market earlier was also a prize and everyone knows in the community that whenever the young Vargas cooks be it either tafelspitz or good ol' goulash, its enough to tempt angels to weep and demons to repent.

Its her usual Saturday afternoon. The sun was angled just right to color the inside of her kitchen a domesticated shade. Her long skirted legs capable and her hands soft yet firm, Felicia Vargas managed to get the schnitzel out the frying pan without sloshing the frying oil and pour the currywurst sauce at the same time.

Felicia smiled and sighed in relief. The currywurst is a favorite in the house. Thank goodness it was not wasted.

She was on the verge of opening the lemon-and-lime ribboned bottles of schnapps and pálinka when she heard the three consecutive knocks in her paneled oak-wood door.

"Coming!" Felicia Vargas shouted from the kitchen as she wiped her hands with a dish towel. The spring wind was unusually strong when she opened the door and the impact had her reeling. She closed her eyes and greeted blindly, with a smile still stacked in place. "Yes?"

"Felicia. How I missed you."

The owner of the name spun around, her chestnut curls falling like gilt waterfalls, framing her perfectly sculptured face, her tendrils tickled the creamy column of her throat. She felt her breath pent up all inside released at once. Her eyes widened.

"Ch-Charles?" She managed to say, and marveled at the strong and handsome male whose frame dominated the whole door frame and almost blocked the light near-illuminating the room.

He stood there, all planes and angles, all tall and manly. His corn-wheat hair glistened and its tousled curls emitted masculine sensuality. He still have those familiar aquamarine orbs, who had seen all human sufferings, experienced them, and voiced out his thoughts that affected her a great deal. She had learned to admire them despite the other's distaste for it, and never had she imagined again she'll be gazing at those with her own amber ones.

Charles took in her face with his coarse sailor hands: Felicia's eyes were the color of rich maple syrup, with brows finely drawn and arched. Long thick lashes framed her orbs. She was thin in both face and body, fine-boned with delicate features that undoubtedly attracted many second glances. Her lips lush, full and tempting, rightful to be ravaged with kisses-his kisses. Her cheeks remind him of crabapple blossoms in the richness of summer. Again, he looked at her eyes and he was momentarily enthralled and dazed with wonder. How he could've lived with her without his side for sixteen years? He dare not ponder for at last she was now in his arms, where she would always be.

Heaven forbid, he was more handsome than she remembered, Felicia thought; his features matured but somehow there are still the boyishness. He is now a man, both similar and different to what he had been before, and the charm he evoked on her heartstrings long ago doubled.

The face chiseled perfectly by his own kind as he grew up, hair still tousled by the playful spring winds, his nose molded straight; with gorgeous nostrils breathing life on Earth. He had high cheekbones and a firm jaw. And the mouth…created in utter reverence considered perfection. She imagined it soft, pressed against whose lucky enough to experience it. The jaw and chin and the mouth made for smiling, revealing attractive dents on either side of his face.

But it was his eyes, holy Zeus, his eyes that definitely drawn all her consciousness to him as she watched those cerulean orbs specked of liquid violets with a tinge of gray flicker with passion… and it definitely scared her. "Please…let go of me…"

Her voice is like strains of beautiful reverent music. Charles cursed his incapability to straighten but caught her arm as she decided to move. Her heart raced. He is too tall for her small size that he loomed over her. He pulled her against his chest and dipped his head, planning to meet her lips.

His lips brushed over hers, a promise of intoxicating sweetness, a whispery caress like butterfly wings. He saw her eyes widen, unaware that he too had the same reaction. Charles pulled away slightly, marvelling how innocent and sweet her lips are, as if no other man had claimed them.

Felicia fingered the outline of her lips unconsciously.

He only meant to sample a kiss and nothing more. But the Fates played a trick on him and he was the one being tempted. One sweet taste and he knew he wanted more.

"I thought you won't recognize me." Charles engulfed her small form with his arms and kissed her lips again after sixteen long years, the first pair he ever touched, and his the first pair she ever tasted.

Their physical reunion reminded them both of the very first time they tried exploring the forbidden.

"How's Lovina."

"She's still the same: all tough rawhide."

Charles smiled, remembering the woman too, but then his face turned serious. "I came to ask for your hand in marriage, Felicia."

"I have something to tell you, Charles…" Felicia nibbled her lips, her eyes not meeting his. "I'm already engaged to someone. I… can't marry you anymore."

Charles stopped short, his left hand stilled on the box he decided to get from his left trouser pocket. "Felicia, we promised in our youth that we'll marry!"

"Promised we did, but we had no contact of you for sixteen years. We thought you're dead." Felicia said, her eyes downcast. "Maybe…we aren't really meant for each other."

"When I kissed you for the first time, Felicia, I knew right away what its going to be for us for the next fifty years: like newlyweds." Charles is obviously angry. Furious. Unbelieving. "I claimed you before: I marked you with a kiss."

"I loved you so much, Charles."

"I did the same Felicia, up to now."

"I waited on you, but news of your ship…"

"You actually believed I'm going to die? When I left you, I promised you I'll come back with a ring. I left you my heart for safe-keeping. Its my heart you're wearing on your sleeve." Charles' shoulders were shaking now.

"No, its not your heart anymore."

"Whose then?"

"Ludwig's," Felicia paused. "My fiance's."

**-4-**

"Charles, are you there? You should eat dinner with us." Elizaveta said behind Charles' door. When she recieved no response, she opened the door, only to find Charles packing his clothes he just unpacked the other day.

"I thought you're going home."

With a sad smile, Charles shaded his eyes to repress his tears.

"Home isn't the place I remembered it to be."

**-5-**

_Their eyes glistening, their sighs contented, they smiled at each other before falling together in the grass in a peaceful slumber._

_They were entwined as if time never existed, as if it was long before history was written in detail._

_For before, their love was innocence.  
><em>


End file.
